Without A Clue. Trish Jensen

and it was pretty intrusive. Unfortunately, it was just who he was.

      Matt couldn’t pinpoint exactly what explosive event in his life had turned him into the man he was now. Not that it mattered. So far almost every goal he’d ever set he’d accomplished. So that was a good thing, right?

      Except he didn’t feel triumphant about it all right now, and he didn’t know why. Megan Renshaw was exactly the type of woman who drove him crazy. She let any change in plan roll right off her back. She didn’t seem to care when things went wrong. She just amended her plans.

      Take this morning, for instance. The cook had practically burned his kitchen down by experimenting with a flambé that obviously had a little too much fire power in it. Meg had walked in, calmly doused the flames with an extinguisher, then patted the woman and said, “It’ll be better next time.”

      He’d about had a stroke. Meg sailed out of there as if the cook had simply put a little too much salt in the soup.

      Matt had followed her, trying to keep from exploding. When he’d confronted her with “That woman is dangerous,” all she’d done was smile and say “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

      There was something about Meg that was dangerous, too. And it wasn’t just that she found disasters amusing. Although that was part of it.

      He wasn’t accustomed to being indulged. He was accustomed to being listened to. Having his plans followed.

      And while Meg seemed willing to follow his game plan to a certain extent, twice she’d looked at one of his proposed changes and just grinned and said, “That’s cute. No.”

      But she had given in on his suggestion that her character was having an affair with his character. He liked that. He wasn’t so sure that he was as enthusiastic at her cheerful willingness to kill him.